Platonic love between Lucius and Draco, a bit sad. Please concrit.
"Hush little baby don't say a word. Papa's gonna buy you a mockingbird." He crooned gently, petting the soft scalp. It was Draco's favorite lullaby. The years flew and Draco grew older, went to school, went to war. Lucius, still in Azkaban, sat in the corner rocking.
"And if that horse and cart fall down, you'll still be the sweetest little baby in town."
Draco found him, Lucius' long hair matted and dirty.
"Father. We've won. Azkaban and the Ministry are ours."
"Draco." His voice cracked.
Lucius kept to Draco's old room, clutching royal blue baby blankets and tattered dolls.
Several months later, two separate armies gathered. Spells flew, green, blue, white, but the only color Lucius noticed was red. Red, red, red smeared on creamy pale. Draco fell, hands grasping at the air. Lucius dropped beside him, gathered him in his arms. As Draco's silver eyes slowly closed, Lucius sang.
"Hush little baby don't you cry, Papa's gonna sing you a lullaby."